


What Am I?

by lunarlychallenged



Category: Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-03
Updated: 2018-08-03
Packaged: 2019-06-21 01:04:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,507
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15546189
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lunarlychallenged/pseuds/lunarlychallenged
Summary: It's strange to plant roots in New York, but Mush makes leaving seem unbearable.





	What Am I?

“Just until I find a place of my own,” you promised the landlord. “It shouldn’t take long.”

He waved you off, pointing you toward the bunking area.

The fact that the room was full of grubby boys was no surprise, but seeing you was evidently a surprise for them. You rushed past them to an empty bed in the back, ignoring their whispers.

Somebody new in the Lodge.

Somebody - maybe a rich somebody - in the Lodge.

Somebody who doesn’t have to stay, but does anyway.

You had grown used to being that somebody. You just weren’t used to going at it alone.

 

 

You leaned against the gate, watching the boys buy their papers. Every morning, they got up at the crack of dawn to wait in line. Jack told them all to hush up; they shouldn’t wake anybody up who has the good fortune of sleeping in.

You could tell they all did their best. They set their clothes out the night before so they wouldn’t make a ruckus getting them out in the morning. They put on shoes in the hallway so they could walk through the room in sock feet. They tried.

Despite their best efforts, they were kids. You would be woken by barks of laughter, or a cry of outrage, or sometimes by the thud of somebody getting shoved into a wall. The first few days you would pretend to keep sleeping, if only so they wouldn’t feel bad about waking you. Today, you decided against it. You let them leave, but quickly got dressed and walked to the square to watch them get started.

“Got big plans for the day?” Jack asked the question with practiced disinterest, but you could see the way he sideyed you. He didn’t distrust you, but he wasn’t sure about your place in his home.

You shrugged. “Maybe I’ll get a job. Maybe I’ll find an apartment.”

“No folks?”

“There are folks. I’m just not there,” you said.

Jack looked near asking you about it all, but he was cut off by the appearance of a small, muscular boy with large eyes. “Jack?”

“Mush,” he said.

“Kids are saying that Snyder is on 33rd. You should stay south.”

“I ain’t scared of spiders,” Jack said. Even so, he slugged the boy’s arm and wandered in the opposite direction of 33rd.

You gave the boy a careful smile when you saw him eying your nice, clean clothes. “You the brains?”

He blinked, startled. “Jeez, no. Why’d you think that?”

You didn’t, not really. Everybody gravitated toward Jack. Even so, you were struggling to figure out the hierarchy of the others. “You’ve been watching things. Jack sends you out, so he must expect you to bring something back.”

“Not ‘cause I’m the brains,” he scoffed. “I’m the muscle.”

You wanted to smile at that. You were all too young to think that way. Muscle was for men. Muscle was for power struggles. You opened your mouth to say so, but it occurred to you that this wasn’t like home. These were kids acting as adults. These were kids who had reason to fear adults. Maybe muscle was a valid position.

“Do you ever have to use your muscles?”

He shrugged. “Sure. We all do. I just look the part.” He said the last part with pride, like his stature was something to be proud of.

“Yeah,” you admitted. “You do look the part.”

He grinned, taking you by surprise. He had a wonderful smile. “What are you?”

“I dunno,” you said thoughtfully. You smiled back at him, taking note of the fact that his face went a little slack at the sight of it. “Think about it, and tell me later.”

“Does that mean you’s sticking around?”

“For a while,” you promised. The world was so wide, so limitless, that you were having trouble picking a new destination. Ireland, maybe, or someplace in Africa. Who knew? “Until I pick a new place to go. Take your time.”

 

 

“Why’d you leave home?” Mush stood near your bench, sporadically asking you questions between sales. 

“There was this old woman back home,” you said wistfully. It wasn’t the woman you missed; it was the feeling you got when she came calling at your house. “She was sick, and the doctors told her to get some fresh air. She wanted to travel to Europe. To rest, you know?”

He leaned against a lamppost. “And she invited you along?”

“As a companion,” you agreed. “She paid me to keep her company while she travelled. It’s how I afford to stay in the Lodge.” She had left you everything. You could have gone anywhere, done anything, but you had chosen New York. For now, at least.

“You got to keep the money?” His surprise was understandable. Most parents would have taken the money for themselves, even if it was to set aside for you to use later.

“She came to me first.” You grinned at him, loving the rapt look on his face. He turned away for a second, bellowing news of a sinkhole in Queens. “She told my parents it was a vacation, and gave me all the money to hide away.”

“Where is she now? Back at home?”

“She died.”

He winced. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be,” you said quietly. “She was sick. I’m not saying it was good for her to die, but she made good memories leading up to it.”

“Like what?”

“We saw the world,” you sighed. “Some of it, anyway.”

Mush settled onto the bench next to you, pushing his bag of papers under the seat. “Tell me about it.”

“Don’t you need to work?”

“I’s good at timing,” he said. “Tell me a story.”

So you did.

 

 

“I’s going to open up my own juke joint someday,” Mush confided. He stood by the edge of your bed, not wanting to sit down. You weren’t sure that it was inappropriate, not when so many people were around, but Mush had an unexpected streak of propriety.

“Really?”

“Of course.” He was confident in the dream. You could see the longing in his eyes; longing for a world where he wasn’t a Newsie, wasn’t poor, wasn’t needing each day to be successful in order to survive the next one. “The best joint in the city.”

Your lips quirked. “That’s a good plan. And here I thought you weren’t the brains.”

He grinned. “That ain’t a plan. That’s a promise.”

“More of a plan than I have,” you protested. “You’ll make it someday. Smart, muscular, and rich. The ladies will swarm you.”

Mush gave a hoot of laughter, warming you right down to your toes. “Please. I’s gonna get somebody else to make the plans. Jack, or maybe Davey.”

“I’ll go to your joint,” you said with a half smile. 

“You better,” he said firmly. “It won’t matter if you ain’t there.”

There was a fluttering in your chest that didn’t feel bad, but didn’t bode well. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

He flushed crimson. “Just that you’s the ultimate judge. If you like it, it must be good.”

 

 

“We should run away,” you said.

You were sitting against a building, looking out at the docks. Mush stood next to you, leaning against the wall.

He gave a small smile, eyes on the waves. “From what?”

“Everything,” you said. “Nothing. To something.”

He glanced down at you. “You shouldn’t sit down there. You’s gonna be filthy.”

“Is that a no?”

“Was that a serious offer?”

You bit your lip. No, it wasn’t. You were a runner. You chased things, even if you weren’t sure there was anything to chase. Mush was not a runner. He was grounded. “If I thought you would say yes, it would be.”

When he saw that you wouldn’t be standing up, he sighed and lowered himself to the ground. “Where would we go?”

“Where do you want to go?”

He gave a crooked smile. “Yes.”

You laughed. “That’s just the kind of mindset I’m looking for in a partner.”

“Partners are supposed to want the same things,” he finally said. “You and I really don’t.”

You weren’t sure exactly what he meant, but that somehow didn’t stop you from thinking he was wrong.

 

 

You were looking at all of the ships. One was leaving for South America today. Another for India in two days. Others were mysteries to you, but every bit as fascinating.

“Hey, kid,” a dock worker said. You looked at him, surprised, half expecting to see him looking at somebody else. When he grinned at you, your stomach sank. Ugh.

You hurriedly looked back at the sea, pretending not to have noticed. 

“Hoping to set sail?” He came over to your bench and leaned against the back, eyes skating over your figure.

“No,” you said. To your surprise, it was true. You wanted to look at the ships, but that was all.

“Come on,” he crooned. “You don’t have a fantasy?”

You cringed and shifted away. “No, sir, I don’t.”

“Y/N,” a new voice said. The tension leached from your shoulders. Mush. His hand skated along the back of your neck while he eyed the man standing by you, protective in a way that didn’t feel possessive. “There you are. I’s been looking all over.”

You plastered on a false smile. Perhaps he had been, but not because you had plans. Mush had been keeping an eye out for your sake, not his own. “Sorry. I lost track of time.” When you stood, you brushed a kiss against his cheek. 

The dock worker didn’t say a word while Mush led you away, pulling you into a side street. “Christ,” he breathed at you. “The one time I ain’t here with you, men come flocking.”

“It was one man,” you protested. Even so, you were grinning at him. “One. And to think, that man could have been you.”

He laughed. “It is now, right?”

“Of course,” you agreed. “Thanks for flocking to me, muscle.”

“It’s what I’s good for.”

“Not just that,” you said, slightly strangled now that you were alone with him. The two of you were never alone, not really. If the other Newsies were out of sight, it was because you were out in the city. “You’re so much more than that.”

He leaned back against the wall. “Yeah?”

You hummed out a sigh of agreement. You thought back to the dock man. Not hoping to set sail, no sir, but perhaps there was a fantasy. A fantasy involving the smell of newsprint, beautiful eyes, and dreams of a future that was wonderful because you stayed still, not in spite of it.

You leaned in toward him. The street was small; there wasn’t much room between the two of you even before you cut the distance. Mush looked into your eyes, at the line of your jaw, and the curve of your lips. His head tilted toward yours, hands coming up to curl around your waist -

He flinched back, grimacing with something like grief. “Sorry,” he muttered. “I wasn’t thinking.”

“What?” You took a step back, bewildered.

“It ain’t right,” he mumbled. “To take advantage without intentions for a future.” He darted out of the alley, walking slow enough to keep you near but far enough to be set apart from you.

You chewed on your lips, ashamed and confused. You shouldn’t be dragging Mush through something before you knew what it was, but it was difficult to figure it out when he was always taking one step forward and two steps back.

 

 

You woke in the middle of the night to see Mush’s eyes gleaming in the dark. He took your hand and led you outside, hardly breathing along the way.

Out on the street, you took a deep breath. “What is it?” He had never woken you before, not this early, so you were a little afraid that there was something wrong. Neither of you had much to lose, so maybe he was hurt.

“I don’t think you’s anything.”

You blinked, hurt, though you had no idea what he was talking about. “What do you mean?”

“What you are. I’s the muscle. Davey’s the brains. You don’t fit.”

“I’m not sure I know what you mean,” you said.

“To be somebody,” he said earnestly, “you’s gotta be a part of something. You don’t have a part if you ain’t a part of something.”

“I’m not a part of you guys?”

“Not if you want to leave soon,” he said. His face was unreadable, which was somehow worse than his words. He always let you read him. It was one of the reasons you had trouble breathing when he was around. “We’s just a stop for you. That’s all I had to say. You gotta - gotta stop trying to be a part when you just want to leave that empty space.” He made to go back inside, his eyes lined with purple bags. Had he really been so worried about this?

You grabbed his hand. “What if I wasn’t?”

He gave you a slow, uncertain look.

“If I wasn’t leaving,” you continued. “If I wanted to stay. There’s this business plan, see, and I want in on it.”

“What kind of plan?”

You grinned. “See, there’s this really smart, muscular boy.” He laughed out loud, but you powered on. “He wants to open a juke joint, and it seems like a prime deal. I have money set aside, so I was thinking I could fund the place.”

His jaw dropped. “Y/N, that ain’t funny.”

“I’m not joking.” You still held his hand, and you shifted it to let his fingers slip into place alongside yours. He didn’t pull back, so you took a step closer. “I’m ready to, I don’t know, put down roots here. I don’t know what I am yet, but I want whatever that is to be next to you.”

“You really mean that?” His eyes were so wide, so hopeful, that you almost forgot it was the middle of the night. You almost forgot that this was a secret, risky meeting. All there was was a certainty that this was the one thing you couldn’t bear to leave behind. If Mush didn’t want to leave, you wouldn’t either.

“If you want,” you whispered back.

He grinned at you, leaning in just a little, so his breath brushed your cheek, but Jack’s voice floated down from above you.

“This is all very touching, but you should get back to bed. I don’t like clandestine meetings keeping me up.”

“C’mon, Jack,” said Crutchie, much quieter. “Let ‘em talk. When else can they do it?”

“Any time that doesn’t wake me up,” Jack groused.

Mush gave a low laugh, pressing his head against yours for a second. “We can talk more tomorrow,” he whispered. “We got time, if you’s staying.”

“Tomorrow,” you promised. “Or the next day. Or the day after that. I’m not going anywhere.”

When he smiled at you like that, it didn’t seem like a bad thing.


End file.
